


More Collected Sherlock Ficlets/Drabbles

by PoppyAlexander



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Fic, Depersonalization, Derealization, Dissociation, Fight!lock, Fighting Kink, Firefighter!John, M/M, Mary is Moran, Mental Illness, New Relationship, Purposely Bad Fic, RCMP Mountie!John, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sherlock is Not a Dead Fuck, Tumblr, Tumblr drabbles, Which is Surprising Given His Handsomeness, You Too Could Be Reading This Nonsense in yr Ask Box if you Follow Me On Tumblr, fightlock, tumblr asks, tumblr ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second collection of stuff I written on/for tumblr. Some funny, some sexy, some violent, some kinky, and one Very-Bad-On-Purpose.</p><p>Follow me on tumblr: FuckYeahFightLock.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Was Easy

It was easy for Mary to shoot Sherlock, not because it was the plan (Moriarty would never let Moran just off his Great Prize; he's saving that for himself) but because ever since Sherlock's return, he's texted John incessantly, not-so-coded declarations of love and lust ("3:47am: My pillow smells of your after shave; why is that? --SH" "1:09pm: I've been thinking about your shoes. --SH"), and even though John really has moved on, he can't bring himself to delete them. John's over it; Mary's not.


	2. Soot

Sadly for Sherlock, fires are actually pretty rare—most of firefighter!John’s calls are to other kinds of emergencies—but when John does get called to one, he doesn’t shower at the station, because he knows Sherlock will smell the ash in the air before John is even all the way through the front door, and by the time John’s up the stairs Sherlock’s mouth is watering and his cock is thrumming and he pulls desperately at John’s clothes and within a minute John is riding him, and Sherlock is burying his nose in John’s neck, behind his ear,  _in his hair_ because the smell of John’s sweat mixing with the lingering smell of the soot (it reminds him of smoking) drives him absolutely mad with lust.


	3. Cold/Hot

Dead of winter and the heat's gone out in the flat but nobody wants to pay for service on a Sunday so Mrs H has gone to her gentleman-friend's for he night; Sherlock and John will tough it out with extra socks and quilts on their bed. Deep snuggling under covers, noses pink and bright-cold, ears numb, but like any new couple, no amount of discomfort, inconvenience, or pressing matters will keep them from it.

Sherlock burrows under the weighty blankets, and John ducks his head under to watch him descend, long fingers dipping under edges of clothing where they can to tickle, raising gooseflesh, and John lets himself be guided onto his belly, helps Sherlock wriggle his trackpants-over-pyjama-bottoms-over-boxers down just enough, shoves Sherlock's (cold!) pillow under his hips to raise them, and then too-cold fingertips are opening him to impossibly hot lips and tongue and hot blood rushes.


	4. Maple-Leaf Handkerchief

Remember that time RCMP Mountie!John was tying up his horse to a lamp post outside a Tim Hortons and who came storming out but That One With The Cheekbones And The Coat (which was flying behind him like Batman's damn cape, eh?) and walked right into William's flank and stumbled backward holding his bleeding nose, and Mountie!John immediately offered him a handkerchief embroidered with a maple leaf and held the back of his neck as he tilted his head back to stop the bleeding?


	5. And Let Him

I was just thinking about the time John had finally had just about his fill of Sherlock's smug, know-it-all expression, the one with the chin to high, the eyes narrowed to literally look down his nose, and he caught Sherlock by his upper arms and quicker than either of them could even think about it, he bit down hard on Sherlock's shoulder through his tailored jacket and his custom fucking shirt and Sherlock shouted and went to his knees and John kicked him in the gut and Sherlock doubled over, gasping for wind, and John stood over him huffing furious gusts of hot breath, seeing red, hating Sherlock, and once Sherlock could breathe again, he went for John's belt buckle and John grabbed him by the hair, and let him.


	6. Dirty

John's fingers hooked in Sherlock's mouth, making him gag (splitting open the corner--a stinging reminder for days to come, every time Sherlock speaks, or yawns, or opens his mouth for John's cock), fucking him hard from behind, and Sherlock is keening, desperate, and John's voice is a growl, a scold: _filthy bitch, I'll show you I'll fucking **show** you, dirty, **dirty** , want my attention? you've fucking got it, hurts, doesn't it? fucking right it does._ Sherlock licks John's fingers. _Good dog_.


	7. Even Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dubious consent/non-consent.

John's hands move faster and more aggressively than Sherlock had ever imagined; it takes him by surprise even now, every time. Fumbling for the button, hook, and zip of Sherlock's trousers, invading space, hustling him toward the lab bench, yanking them down as he bends Sherlock over and tugs down his own zip.

"Not here, John."

"Do I care?"

"Please."

"Sherlock. Do. I. care."

Fingers slick with spit, not enough but it'll have to do, and Sherlock gives in, always. That's the point of the thing.


End file.
